Daughter of Cana by Angela Hunt

Author:Angela Hunt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biblical Fiction;FIC042090;FIC042110;FIC027140
ISBN: 9781493422647
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2020-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Tasmin

We did not have an opportunity to speak to Yeshua that day. As the sun balanced on the western horizon, Yeshua disappeared, leaving just as Jude and I were getting ready to approach him. One of the women said Yeshua typically went down to the water’s edge, where he could launch out in a boat and rest on the waves. The twelve had gone with him while most of the local people had gone home. Those who had come from a distance camped on the hillside, erecting makeshift tents and building small campfires.

Fortunately, we were accustomed to sleeping under the stars, so we did the same.

The next morning, we rose with the sun and climbed the hill in search of food for the boy. While I waited to see if Joanna or Susanna could find something soft enough for him to eat, I studied the women working with Yeshua. The women worked well together, putting their hands to whatever needed to be done: doling out water to the thirsty, comforting the sick who had come to be healed, preparing food, or directing those with livestock to the watering trough by the lake. One woman looked familiar—she wore her long dark hair tied back with a leather strip, and her tunic looked new. She appeared to be middle-aged and would have been pretty in her younger days, for her face was symmetrical and her eyes large. She did not speak much, but when she smiled, her eyes lit with unmistakable joy and something that looked like relief . . .

When she handed a dish to Joanna, I saw a scar on her arm, and the truth hit me like a blow to the belly: we had seen this woman outside Magdala. It was she who had roared up from the graveyard and attacked Jude. Only a few days ago, this woman had been a lunatic.

I tugged on Jude’s sleeve and pointed. “Do you recognize her?”

He turned and looked. “Should I?”

“We saw her outside Magdala.” His eyes remained blank. “She attacked you.”

He blinked, then startled. “Not possible.”

“I’m sure it’s the same woman. She has the same scar on her arm.”

I didn’t realize how loudly I had been speaking until Mary came over and sat next to Jude. She slipped her arm around his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his temple. “My son,” she said, patting his hand. “I am so glad you have come. Have you greeted your aunt Salome? She is with us.”

“Not yet.” He blushed under his mother’s obvious affection. “It has not been easy to find you, but I am glad we did. I wanted to see if I could convince Yeshua to come back to Nazareth.”

Mary patted his hand again, then looked toward the woman with the scarred arm. “I noticed you looking at Miriam. From your reaction, Tasmin, I thought you might have seen her before.”

It was my turn to blush. “We—we did encounter her,” I admitted, stammering. “She attacked Jude when we passed by Magdala.

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